


Blankets

by ShrimpZilla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShrimpZilla/pseuds/ShrimpZilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Hawke share a tent while camping. Anders gives in to temptation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> written for dragon age kink meme

“Anders, you’re hogging the blanket.” A woman’s voice echoed in his ear. He shifted, still mostly asleep, and let the words wash over him. He could feel her there next to him, feel the warm weight of a body next to his own, feel her as she tugged helplessly on the blanket that was twisted around him. He rolled onto his back and let some of the slack fall between them. His eyes still closed, his mind still straddling the real world and the dream Fade he extended one of his arms and grinned lazily.

“Come here. I’ll keep you warm.” A moment’s hesitation and then the heat of her tight and close beside him. A head on his shoulder. A hand on his chest. The blanket fell more easily now and Anders settled comfortably into this new position. His arm curled around the smaller body, holding it close to his. His head lolled sleepily, nose in her hair. He inhaled contentedly. He couldn’t place the smell but it was familiar. Whoever the woman was he knew more than just a tumble. Lemon and leather. Dark hair and bright eyes, his sleep dulled mind supplied. Cold fingers wormed their way passed his shirt onto his stomach, slowly crawling to his chest. The touch felt nervous, unsure. He kissed the woman’s head to let her know it was all right. 

“Anders?” He wondered why she was so tentative. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed into her hair. He felt her adjust against him and he kissed her again on what felt like her forehead. Then again on her nose, her cheek, her temple. She leaned into his lips and he could make out the sound of faintly quickened breaths. He felt his body waking up, a twitching in his pants as blood flowed expectantly. He opened his eyes a little and used the arm around her shoulders to heft her up closer to his face. He kissed her mouth softly at first just lips until he felt her respond and he opened his mouth eagerly for her tongue. When they parted he smiled and looked down at the woman he could barely see in the pitch black of the cold tent. He listened to the rain pattering against the sides. “Hawke,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting over her eyelashes. 

He froze.

Hawke? 

His mind spun into wakeful consciousness. Guilt that felt almost like terror gripped his chest. She must have felt him tense beside her because she pulled back slightly. Her hand was still on his chest though and he could feel callouses and ragged nails where she touched him so cautiously. He could feel her other hand trapped between them, gripping lightly to his shirt. One of her legs was tangled with his. He still had his arm wrapped tightly around her, holding her body to his body. After a painful moment of deliberation he loosened his grip. Let her slide down away from his face. He wanted to turn over on to his side, offer her his back, and maybe die of humiliation. If she moved her leg the wrong way—the right way—she would feel the half-hardened state of him. What had happened? He had better control than this. Slowly Justice was returning to his mind, making him feel worse for his momentary lapse. This would hurt Hawke. He had let his carnal desires cloud his mind and now Hawke would hate him. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

“Anders?” Her voice was careful. He bit his lip. She moved her hand in a circle on his chest. Not sexual but comforting but Anders body apparently couldn’t tell the difference. He felt his nerves light up. How long had it been since anyone had touched skin to his skin? He wanted to arch up into that touch, drag it down into his pants, really warm her up.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he offered aware of the breathless quality of his voice as he tried to contain himself.   
  
“Don’t be,” she whispered. He could hear the hopeful quality in her voice. She had made it no secret that she liked him, cared for him, cherished him as a friend but that she wanted more. It was hard to deny her considering how painfully he wanted what she wanted. How many nights spent replaying their interactions with a different end? How many nights palming himself to thoughts of her legs and hips and mouth? How many nights spent miserable in his hovel while he imagined her laugh and her smile, her quick wit and poor humor? Her words—so simple; “don’t be”—made his teeth clench. “Anders,” she began but didn’t finish. He pressed his mouth to hers again, hard and open and wet and hot. She made a surprised noise that was muffled beneath his searching tongue as it tangled with hers. He felt a weight in his chest shifting. There was guilt there, heavy and painful, but beneath it his heart stirred, fluttered, hoped. All he had wanted since he had met her was to bury himself in her. Physically at first and then emotionally as well. He loved her. The thought hit him hard and he pulled back from their kiss. He could feel her breath on his cheek. He ran a finger over her lips, tracing the curve of her mouth. He loved her.   
  
“Hawke.” What was he doing? He couldn’t tell her that. She would think him a madman. Denying there was anything between them for so long and then blurting it out after a couple of kisses?   
  
“Anders,” she laughed happily. It warmed him to hear. He had made her happy. A softness touched the ragged edges of his mind where Justice tore into him. Suddenly the pain burrowing up from the base of his skull didn’t seem so bad. The mind boggling sensation of being of two definite minds lessened. He could make her happy. If he could do that then part of Justice’s argument was void. He rolled so that he was on top of her, heard the giddy squeal in her chest as his hips ground into hers. She brought her other hand into his shirt, rubbed along his ribs and over onto his back. She held his shoulders, kneaded a little at the tension he carried there. On either side of her head his arms wavered at the feeling.   
  
“You’ll have to be quiet,” he warned. The others would have the second tent set up not far away. Part of him delighted in the knowledge and part of him dreaded it. He knew which parts to attribute each. He felt Hawke nod, her body quiet and taut with eagerness. She had waited for him. He would reward her patience.   
He kissed her slowly, languidly. His tongue deep and driving. It was hard to keep his own self silent. Hawke wasn’t a slouch. She kissed him back just as tortuously. Why had he put this off again? His kisses trailed down to her neck where he lavished attention with his teeth and stubble on her pulse. She squirmed beneath his touch, her hips rising to graze against his in need. He worked his hands into her shirt, felt the places he had touched before with healer’s hands now lover’s hands. He pressed his lips her stomach, tongued her navel, nuzzled up her sternum until his head was under her shirt and he was nipping at her breasts. His fingers found her nipples and he rolled one between thumb and forefinger to see the effect. Hawke’s hips jumped and she sucked in a surprised breath. He grinned to himself, his hips jumping when she did, and ran his tongue flat up the swell to the tip and then he sucked using his other hand to massage the breast he hadn’t gotten to yet. 

“Anders,” she said with such need that if he hadn’t already been hard that was all it would have taken. He raked his hands down her sides, gently pulling with his nails, hooked his fingers into her pants and gave one hard tug until they were at her knees. He settled over her with his hands holding her hips and took a moment to bask in the warmth. He wished that he could see her, explore her and he thought about summoning a wisp of light but knew that would invite too much curiosity for anyone else in their party. He had to be content by finding his way with touch alone. It wasn’t so bad, really. He kissed her stomach just above her pelvis, rubbed his chin in the swath of curls. He had recognized the scent of her soap and clothes earlier and now, well, he would recognize the scent of  _her_  forever. He buried his face in her, not even licking or kissing just rubbing his nose and mouth and his cheeks all in her. The smell of her was intoxicating and the way she bucked whenever he incidentally touched her sweet spot made him dizzy with desire.   
  
“You’re going to want to scream my name. Try to contain yourself,” he said with some of his old arrogance. She laughed, high and nervous with anticipation. He pulled one of her legs out of her pants and swung it over his shoulder casually. The other he pulled to his side and then he dove in.   
  
He had forgotten what this was like. She was wet, her juices flowing for him though he had barely done a thing. His tongue lapped at her, pressing into her slit before pulling back up towards her clit. He pushed down, rolling his tongue over it until he could feel her shaking almost violently. Then he went back to fucking her with his tongue, shoving it insider her while his nose rubbed against the hardened bud of her sex. He sucked and licked, his jaw aching from where she continually tried to grind hard into him. He held tighter on the leg he had in an attempt at controlling her movement. He wanted to touch himself but restrained. He wanted to please her, just her, show that he wasn’t some silly selfish man. He sucked on her, drowning in her scent and her wetness, wondering how he had ever let it go this long.   
  
He moved his tongue from her entrance and inserted two of his fingers, curling them in against her. She shuddered, swallowing some noise of pleasure. He could feel her contracting around him, feel her building surge of her release. He sucked on her clit harder, ran his tongue along it more hectically, thrust his fingers in and out.   
  
“Anders,” she moaned shakily though to her credit it was low and private. He moaned into her and hefted her other leg over his shoulder, lifted her up so that her ass was in the air, and bent her down so that her body curled her knees to her chest as he brought her to her orgasm. She moaned louder then, the change of angle a surprise and the climax powerful over her self-restraint. He panted and released her, heard rather than saw her curl into a boneless ball. He heard her breath in the dark, heavy and shuddery. He grinned and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and lowered himself carefully so that he was beside her. She moved to throw herself over him and her knee touched his cock. He bit his lip to stop whatever noise might erupt from him. “Anders,” she repeated when she had regained herself. He held her to him, happy despite his raging, untended erection. He could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest against his own. She reached up and kissed him greedily, tasting herself on his mouth as if proving that this was real and had happened. He sat up and pulled her onto his lap. “You’re hard,” she said with a smile in her voice that he wished he could see. 

“That happens to me sometimes,” he shot back. He wound his fingers into her hair at the back of her neck and tried to push her down. She resisted and he wasn’t about to actually force her. He shifted with her on his lap, pressing into his dick. “Blow me,” he instructed. She pulled herself closer, wrapped her legs around his waist, and leaned in to whisper.  
  
“Who says you’re in charge?” The sultry, commanding quality of her voice made his skin break out in goosebumps. He supposed he should have guessed she would like to play that game. He was more than happy to provide her with a supplicant. She kissed delicately at the column of his throat, her lips rasping in his stubble. He brought his hands to her chest and felt her smile into his skin. “It’s not your turn to touch me,” she said and clamped down with her teeth. He groaned, throwing his hands out and way from her. She placed another gentle kiss atop where she had bitten and crawled off his lap. He lowered his pants eagerly, unable to contain the thrill that had settled at the base of his spine. Good news for Hawke was that he wouldn’t last long no matter what she did. “I really should punish you for how long you’ve made me wait for this.” He bit his lip and breathed deeply.   
  
“Please do.”   
  
Hawke licked his balls first and despite his own warning earlier he made a startled noise. She stopped and then ran her tongue up the base of him, up his shaft, and to the head. She swirled her tongue there, picking up the precum that had leaked out and tasting it. He wondered what she thought of his taste, wondered if he should ask, and then realized he was acting like a nervous virgin. It had been too long. He had lost his sexual swagger. He was falling apart in her hands. She took him into her mouth, testing how deep she could get him. Then she started in earnest. He felt his climax building quickly even as she tried to tease him, popping him out of her mouth to nuzzle and lick and nip. He twined his fingers in her hair as a tight wave of pleasure crested not knowing what she would do and whole heartedly not caring. He was rewarded—punished, he corrected himself—with a quick slap on his ass. He gripped her hair tighter and she slapped him again. He pulled his hand away after the second, his mind spinning with want and need and desire but knowing he shouldn’t be greedy.   
  
“You like that?” She asked, running her hand up and down his spit slicked shaft. He nodded and managed to groan out something in the affirmative. Hawke’s grip on him changed and he found himself being rolled onto his stomach. He propped himself up, uncertain for a moment and wondering if he should ask. Then she shoved her tongue into his asshole and Anders realized that yes, if there had been a question about it before—which there hadn’t—he loved this woman. Her hand returned its grip on his cock but really it was pretty much for show at that point. He came on her second pump while her tongue burrowed around his tight pucker. His back arched and he groaned, he didn’t even pretend to try to hide it. He felt some of his seed hit his chin as the rest spilled sloppily along his belly, the blankets, and Hawke’s hand. He fell away from her, breathing desperately as he lay flat on his back with his hands lazily searching for something he could clean the mess up with. Hawke dropped in next to him, tongued his ear, and then wiped his stomach with her hand. He heard her sucking hungrily on what he imagined was her cum coated fingers and felt his cock twitch appreciatively at the gesture.

“Hawke,” he gasped still short of breath. “You’re wonderful.” She wrapped herself around him and he welcomed it, cradling her to his chest and holding her to him. He didn’t want to let go.   
  
“You don’t regret it?” The question broke his heart but he couldn’t fault her for asking it. Any time he had even flirted with her in the past he had devolved into a frenzy of self-deprecation and shame. He hugged her closer.   
  
“Only that it took me so long,” he admitted as he pressed a kiss into her hair. He wondered if she could read the intention behind the gesture. He wondered if she might know without him having to say it that he was in love with her. He treasured the words while he thought them. They warmed a part of him he hadn’t known needed it. Even Justice couldn’t truly begrudge him such thoughts. But to speak them aloud frightened him. He wanted her to know but didn’t trust them to survive outside his body.   
  
“Actually, I thought you were pretty quick.” He squeezed her, amused and grateful for her and her ways. He didn’t need to be thinking about such serious things. This was a lighthearted moment. Something a long time coming. He relished the tired and comfortable sensation of his body wound together with hers.   
  
“You know what I meant.”   
  
“Anders?” In her voice he read the words he was afraid to say and heard that she was afraid to say them too. He nuzzled his face next to hers, pulled the fluid stained blanket back over them, and kissed her lips.  
  
“Hawke,” he responded in a way that she might hear beneath her name the words.  
  
They fell asleep.   
  
He awoke when the sun rose, shifting through the seam of the entrance to the tent seemingly with the sole purpose of landing on his face. He groaned, thrashed his head in the opposite direction, and rolled over onto his side. His shoulders ached from sleeping on the ground. He was exhausted, his muscles sore, his body felt sticky. In front of him Hawke made a noise in her sleep and wriggled herself backwards into the curve his body made. Without thinking he welcomed her to him. He placed a leg over hers, their feet tangled. His arms worked their way around her waist where her hands grabbed his and pulled them up between her breasts. He breathed on her neck, his nose resting in the curve between her throat and shoulder.   
  
“Hawke,” he mumbled even though in his head he heard  _I love you_. She pushed herself tighter against him, her ass rubbing against his already hard dick.   
  
“Anders,” she responded. Mostly still asleep he rocked his hips forward, relishing the feel of her skin against his and the pressure her body on him. He did it a few times and then Hawke repositioned herself. The next time he pushed he felt the tight heat of her pussy. He caught himself before pushing in totally, just letting the head play at the slick entrance. “Anders,” Hawke repeated sounding a little more awake. She squeezed her thighs around him. 

“I don’t know if we should.” They would be getting ready to pack up soon. The others would be suspicious if Hawke and Anders lingered in the tent. Varric would likely make a big deal of it and Fenris… Well, on that thought he found himself pushing into her. She made a low, contented sigh at the feel of him inside her. He kissed her neck and let himself moan into her ear. Maybe he was being foolishly romantic but they fit together perfectly. She was tight and hot and knew how to move against his movements just the right way. He gripped her hips tight and they moved together dreamily until they both reached their climax. It was slow and steady, unhurried and unlike the night before. Anders liked the variation. He liked the intimacy. He liked that he was with Hawke. They lay kissing and touching, smiling happily with each other until the sounds of the awakening camp greeted them.   
  
“Come on, sleepyheads. I don’t want to have spend another minute surrounded by… nature,” Varric called. They dressed quickly in clothes that were already soiled before last night. When they stepped out into the brisk morning Anders saw Varric giving him a curious look. He glanced down at himself to be sure that there was nothing amiss. “Blondie,” the dwarf said inquisitively, “you’re smiling.”  
  
“I… had a good dream,” he supplied quickly as he tried to avoid glancing in Hawke’s direction. Varric didn’t seem to be buying it. From somewhere off to the side he heard the gruff sneer of Fenris.  
  
“Did a demon come to offer you something?” Anders felt himself frown and at the sight Varric seemed put at ease.   
  
“Well, whatever. Let’s get back to Kirkwall. There’s a pint at the Hanged Man with my name on it and I don’t plan to disappoint.”  
  
“Do you think we could get a game of Wicked Grace going?” Hawke asked, swinging her pack over her shoulder as they all settled into formation behind her. It was always Hawke, then Varric a little to the side and little behind, then Fenris, and then Anders. He didn’t mind so much and had never really minded because it was the time he felt safest to stare at Hawke. The fact that he could watch Fenris watching Hawke while knowing that the things they had done last night was like an added bonus.   
  
“I’d be up for a game,” he called in response to Hawke’s question. She looked over her shoulder with a bright grin. Varric shot him another incredulous look.   
  
“Even after how bad you lost last time? Must’ve been a really good dream.” Anders shrugged, a small controlled smile on his face.  
  
“I think I’m about to have a winning streak.” 


End file.
